Dindi
"Never," said Kavio almost shaking her. "Never do that again."
His voice was so intense, it scared her.
"What did I do?" Dindi asked in a small, startled voice.
"You must never, never make up your own dances," he said. "You must only use the patterns passed down through tradition. You must never create your own positions. It is forbidden."
She stepped back. "Forbidden like the Shunned?"
"It's not the same," he said, his voice tight.
"Isn't it? What if our taboos are just as foolish and cruel as theirs?"
"They aren't."
Taboo. Forbidden. Shunned. Dindi hated those words.
The fae never said things were forbidden. Why couldn't humans dance with the same freedom?
He must have seen the rebellion on her face.
"Dindi, this is serious," Kavio said. He clenched one fist and hit it softly into his other hand. "I can't teach you if I think you'll use what I show you the wrong way."
"I wouldn't do that."
"A wrong dance can cause a hex instead of a blessing," he said. "Two generations ago, some Tavaedies in the Rainbow Labyrinth made a mistake during a dance.
"They were doing a toss, and they dropped a dancer. She broke her neck and died right away.
"There is no worse hex than a death during a tama.
"They were dancing a blessing for the aurochsen herds. But instead, the herds were cursed. They got a blood-cough that spread like wildfire.
"To try to stop the curse, the Rainbow Labyrinth tribe invited the Bone Whistler for the first time."
He grabbed her wrists gently but firmly. His grip felt like stone—but soft like suede.
Warmth spread through her arms and down to her toes.
"You may think it's cruel to execute those who dance without training," Kavio said. "But that's why.
"One wrong dance started a chain of mistakes. Each one worse than the last.
"It almost destroyed our tribe. Thousands died—by hunger, by pain, in war.
"Two-thirds of my grandparents' generation were lost.
"Our tribe has never fully recovered. Maybe it never will.
"All because of one dance done wrong."
"Oh," said Dindi softly.
"If I teach you as if you are a Tavaedi, then you must accept the duties of a Tavaedi," he said. "Do you still want to do this?"
He still held her wrists.
She opened her fists. She relaxed her jaw. She made herself stay calm in his hold.
This is what it means to be a Tavaedi. I can do this.
"Yes," she said.
"Good. Next—"
"Kavio."
"Yes?"
She touched the lump under her breast covering.
"There's something else I need to tell you. Something that might make you change your mind about teaching me.
"Maybe even about… sparing my life. But I have to tell you."
"Dindi?" He crossed his arms. "No more secrets."
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"What is it?"
"There's a… thing. An old totem I found. When I touch it, sometimes I see… Visions. Strange pieces of someone else's life."
"Ah." To her surprise, his face relaxed.
"You found something hexed," he said. "And I'm guessing you hoped it could give you real magic."
She thought of her dream—learning the Unfinished Song by watching Vessia in the Visions.
"Something like that," she said.
"Dindi, I'm sorry," Kavio said gently. "Whatever it is, it can't give you magic if you have none.
"The Visions you see are haunts. They're the leftover magic of the person who once owned the totem.
"They feel real, and they are magic—but not the kind you can use or control."
She started to take out the corncob doll. She meant to give it to him.
"But you can," she said.
He shook his head. He held up a flat palm and stepped back.
"I could," he said. "But I'd rather not.
"Hexed things and haunted places affect people like me more than people like you.
"I've met them before. I don't like it. It's… embarrassing."
He looked away, ashamed.
Dindi couldn't imagine what Kavio had to be ashamed of.
"I have fits," he said in a quiet voice. "When I'm near tangled magic, like haunts. That's what a haunt is—old Patterns so twisted into the world that they won't let go or form something new.
"My body reacts. I lose control. I usually fall. My limbs thrash. I'm told it looks scary, even though it doesn't hurt me.
"It's humiliating. I don't want others to know. Please don't tell anyone."
"No, of course not!"
"I'm glad you told me about the hexed totem. But now you see why I won't touch it.
"The best thing to do is destroy it."
"I thought… I hoped… Maybe it meant I could retake the Test," she said in a small voice.
"Um." He grimaced. "Let's not say it's impossible.
"If you learn to dance the tamas the correct way—how they've been passed down."
"Then teach me. Show me how to do it right. As it's been handed down."
"We'll meet like this again, each time we can," he said. "Tell no one."
He pulled up the arrows from around the practice space.
"We should go back separately."